


Precious Cargo

by CariadWinter



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Double Penetration, Double Penetration in One Hole, Dubious Consentacles, Eggpreg, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Rape, Mpreg, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Penetration, Other, Oviposition, Restraints, Size Kink, Tentacle Rape, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 15:00:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14427996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CariadWinter/pseuds/CariadWinter
Summary: Bor Gullet knows the end is coming. He can feel it as soon as the wheels are set in motion. So, when Bodhi is given to him, there is only one choice Bor Gullet can make. Only one way to ensure that his line and his race live on.





	Precious Cargo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MiriamKenneath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiriamKenneath/gifts).



He can't breathe. There's this, this thing crawling towards him and all Bodhi can do is jerk against his bonds. He needs to move. He needs to get up and run, but the restraints hold him captive in the chair. Gerrera is behind him, talking to him. Bodhi doesn't register what he's saying. The words are drowned out by the overwhelming terror he feels. It slithers closer. Bor Gullet.

Bodhi gasps when it reaches him. He struggles again, desperate. Gerrera is still talking. 

Its tentacles slither up his legs, slide over and around him until he's wrapped up tight. Bodhi gasps again. Whimpers. One wraps around his chest and squeezes. There are two more, one around each arm. They slither up past his neck and he chokes as two latch on to his face, one at each temple. 

"No!" Bodhi screams, horrified.

The first touch of Bor Gullet's mind to his takes his breath away. It's all-encompassing. The creature presses into his mind from all sides. It blankets him, nestles down into him until his vision goes dark and all there is, is Bor Gullet. He forces Bodhi’s thoughts into order; sorts them, bores into him until all that he is, is laid bare for him.

_ Give me your fear _ , Bor Gullet commands, though there is no voice. Bor Gullet doesn't speak to him. It's a thought that is given to him, branded into him like an urge, and Bodhi immediately quiets. The terror fades.  

Bor Gullet starts with who he is. He searches Bodhi’s life; learns how he became an Imperial pilot and sees the things he’s done for them. Bodhi had been forced into slavery at a young age. He’d been passed from master to master until finally landing at the feet of an Imperial General. It was then that Bodhi was taught to fly, but only so he could serve a legitimate purpose for the Empire. They’d abused him, punished him, pushed his limits. In return, he’d done their bidding, though their beliefs had never been his own.  

_ Give me your hope _ , comes next. Galen flashes in Bodhi’s mind. Bodhi is here because of him. Bodhi believes in him. He believes in what the rebellion can do with the information Galen has given him. He believes in the cause. The cause, the rebellion, the fight, it gives him hope and joy. The galaxy needs to be freed from the darkness that has plagued it for longer than he can remember and now, Bodhi is a part of that fight, that hope.

Something slips beneath his pant leg to coil around his calf. It slithers higher, cold and slick. Bodhi shivers as it touches his thigh.

“Please,” he gasps, fear reasserting itself.

Another tentacle mimics the first, slipping below the fabric of his other pant leg. They climb his body; learning, searching. One slips across his groin; nudges at the seam of his underwear and Bodhi whimpers. He tries to pull his hips back, tries to break free. 

The cold, foreign touch as it curls delicately around his balls makes his eyes go wide. The second tentacle, here to join the first, pushes into his underwear and coils around his cock. It squeezes and pulses around him, swirls up and down until the first feathering tendrils of pleasure start to seep into his blood. Bodhi exhales heavily, breath stuttering in his throat as his cock swells.

_ Give me your pleasure _ , Bor Gullet encourages. Bodhi shakes his head, wanting to defy the urge. He needs to defy this urge. This can’t happen.

The tentacle around his waist tightens, tugs his middle forward until his back is arched away from the chair. Another tentacle slides around his hips; cradles them as it pulls them up away from the seat. His wrists are still pinned. The metal cuffs continue to hold him prisoner and the biting sting of it helps, momentarily, to take the edge off of the unwanted bliss building in his groin.

_ Give in to me _ , Bor Gullet presses, the silent urge taking him over like the ignition of a primal instinct.

The tentacle wrapped around his cock retreats, only to return a moment later. It’s fleshy, slick tip presses down over Bodhi’s cockhead. Like the ones affixed to his temples, it attaches to him, suctions itself down over him, opening around him until it sheathes itself along the swollen length of him. Bodhi gasps, mouth gaping as it sucks and sucks and sucks at him.

The other tentacle, the one toying with his balls, slips further back. It presses up between his asscheeks, prods at his hole and pushes in past the tight ring of his resistance, but then withdrawals immediately at the flare of burning pain. Bodhi shakes his head again, tears welling in his eyes.

When it returns, the tip of it is slicker somehow. It pokes at him again, rubs the slick into his skin and into his hole until he’s practically shaking with anticipation and dread. The second press into his body is easier, met with less resistance and the tentacle sinks into him like it belongs there. It twists and wriggles inside of him. Pushes in farther and farther until he can feel the hard girth of it press and slide along his prostate. The stimulation causes Bodhi’s hips to jerk against his will. He doesn’t want it. He needs to go. Needs to fly away.

Something shifts in his mind; delves deeper. All that he is, all that he was, it plays out before him. Brings with it every emotion that his past and present inspired along the way. Bodhi feels like he’s drowning. It’s a white-hot mix of pleasure and pain, urged on by every other emotion a man can feel. It blinds him, drills right down into his bones and anchors there. 

The tentacle at his throat tightens, coils around him until the breath he draws is barely enough to keep him conscious. It forces his mouth open, making room for another of its brethren to slip past his lips.

Bor Gullet’s taste is salty and bitter. It makes Bodhi gag as it oozes down his throat. With it, however, comes a numbing bliss that makes his head float and his eyes roll back. The tentacle pushes down inside him, past his lax jaw and throat, down, down, down until Bodhi can feel it moving in his chest.

The one in his ass does the opposite. It pulls out of him; retreats from his body with a disgusting slick sound and Bodhi’s hips jerk as his hole spasms. He feels empty now, achingly so, and in response, the tentacle returns. It prods at him, rubs around his loosened ring until Bodhi shivers, and then it presses back inside. The tentacle jabs and strikes against his prostate; fucks into him until his legs go lax and Bodhi stops fighting.

A third tentacle joins the two in his pants. It slips back to the one fucking him and he can feel the tentative brush of it along his rim. Bodhi’s eyes go wide despite his inability to see the room around him. All he can do is hear and feel and it toys with him. It presses in slightly only to withdrawal and try again on the other side of the one already breaching him. It tests Bodhi’s limits, pushes until he whimpers in pain and then pulls away. Eventually, though, the pain doesn’t come. It’s replaced with a burning pressure and the need for more. Bor Gullet is quick to comply.

The third tentacle presses in alongside the first. It stretches Bodhi impossibly wide, pushes in and in and in until he’s certain his body will tear open because of it. The fullness of it makes him whine. It’s everything. His body is stretched to bursting and all he can think about… is more. Bodhi wants more. He needs to be filled to the brim. He needs to be touched and sucked and fucked until there’s nothing left but soul-shattering oblivion.

He feels something slip between the buttons of his flight suit and after a moment, twin tentacles latch around his already erect nipples. They suck at his flesh and twist around the tiny buds until Bodhi’s back arches farther than before. The one sucking at his cock matches pace with them. They suck and suck and suck until his muscles clench, balls aching, and he spills into the one swallowing his cock. Bodhi screams around the one in his throat and his eyes roll back.

Bor Gullet trembles inside him and a high, trilling sound fills the air. The tentacles in his ass fuck into him harder. They twist and piston, pound up into him until Bodhi’s whole body rocks from the force of it. He can feel them coil around each other, feels them press in further until his belly begins to bulge out like a balloon. Never in his life had he been fucked like this. It’s desperate and needy, but he can’t decide whether it’s his need calling him, or the alien’s.

Something pricks inside of him. The pain is like hellfire stabbing into his gut, but then Bor Gullet trills again and Bodhi’s eyes roll again. Warmth fills him. Wave after wave of it until it leaks past the abused rim of his hole and the tight seal of his lips. It gushes out of him, down his thighs and throat and soaks into the fabric of his flight suit. 

A third trill comes, this sound almost warbling in Bodhi’s ears, and he feels an odd sort of ripple passing through him, both through his mouth and up into his ass. The tentacles at this nipples and cock suck harder. They work him over and over until another wave of orgasm slams into him and he’s coming, hips snapping up hard and then forcing him back down onto the undulating tentacles inside. Bodhi fucks himself onto Bor Gullet, hips thrusting hard and fast as Bor Gullet fills him to bursting.

When it’s done, Bor Gullet carefully, ever so carefully, pulls away. The tentacles withdraw from him, slip from his throat and ass and skin, and Bodhi gasps. He gasps and chokes and coughs, body slumping back into the seat. If there is an ache left behind, he can’t feel it. All he feels is the whispering hum of Bor Gullet still embedded deeply in his mind and the hard, insanely round distention of his belly.

_ Take my children with you when you go _ , Bor Gullet commands.

Bodhi nods, head rolling slightly as he does. He doesn’t know where he’s going. Doesn’t even know who he is. Where is he? Is he going somewhere? Will his babies be safe?

He blinks up at the men that suddenly loom over him, though he can't say for sure how long he's been sitting there.

“Put him in one of the cells,” instructs a voice, but Bodhi can’t see it.

He twitters and mumbles as they release him and drag him up by his arms. Maybe they know why he’s here. Or where here even is.


End file.
